


medieval n' gay

by roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medieval, No Fandom - Freeform, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes/pseuds/roadworkaheaduhyeahisurehopeitdoes
Summary: gay medieval shitits pretty crappy





	medieval n' gay

_ Smack. _ Another hand hit Eliot’s face. He breathed in, refusing to cry out.

“You try to sneak into the prince’s quarters, boy?” The guard yelled. He threw another punch, which Eliot dodged, backing into the wall. “Treason! Attempted murder of the heir to the throne! Devilspawn!” The guard cried.  _ Now would be a great time, Alex,  _ He thought. “I’ll have you executed! Burned on the stake!  _ Flayed _ ! The guard was screaming now. And, it was as if Alex had heard his plea, because at that moment, Alexander John Henrikson the third walked out his royal chambers in thin linen clothing, looking rather bedraggled. 

“What’s all the fuss about, Nickelson? Is there another lion running about the palace?” He said, tall and imposing.

“N-no, sire, just a peasant.” The guard, Nickelson, stuttered. Alex finally glanced over at him. A quick flash of amusement rushed over his features, and then he composed himself. 

“Well, leave me to deal with him. You go off and be useful for once.” Alex dismissed the stuttering guard with flick of his wrist, and once he was gone, burst out laughing. Eliot glared. “You’re going to get yourself killed, one day, y’know.” Alex cackled in between bouts of laughter.

“Alex.” Eliot sighed.

“What?” 

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day, too, if you don’t stop disrespecting guards. They’re going to assassinate you.”

Alex sobered up for a second. “He was beating you up, Eliot, I’m not going to let that slide.” He inspected Eliot’s face. “Here, I’ll fix you up.” 

“No- really, I’m fine. Alex, really, c’mon-” He was shut up by Alex dragging him inside his quarters. 

“Nothing, Eliot, don’t want to hear a single goddamn word.” Alex sat him down in a chair, and dug through a cabinet for medical supplies. He found them, and brushed Eliot’s hair out of his face, dabbing a warm cloth over the bruises. It brought instant relief to Eliot, and he sighed, leaning back into the chair. Alex perched on the cabinet where he had produced the medical supplies.

“So, what brings you here in the middle of the night?” Alex asked.

Eliot looked down at his twiddling thumbs and bouncing leg. “Uh...for...reasons?” He tried, knowing that Alex would not be satisfied, but one can hope. He was right. Alex didn’t take it.

“What?” He prodded.

“Um...my dad...was kinda...being an asshole?” Eliot mumbled. Alex flew into a rage.

“I’ll kill him! No, I’ll poison him, and watch him slowly suffer! Wait, I’ll slowly and pain-” Alex was cut off by Eliot.

“Chill out, Alex. Murder is no better than abuse.” Eliot said, always a moral compass.

“Let me take care of you, Eliot. Take off your shirt.” Alex demanded.

“Kinky-okay!” Eliot yelped after a glare from Alex. He pulled off his old, almost threadbare shirt, tossing it onto the ground. There were assorted brusises on his torso, which Alex cleaned, the applied a healing ointment.

“I hate him. I wish I could execute him.” Alex muttered, grabbing a clean shirt from his drawer. The unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air. But then people would ask questions. How did the prince know him? Why was it so personal? They would look into Eliot’s family. They would come up with him, the eldest son. He had blackmailed the prince. He had threatened the prince. Then Eliot would be executed, because that was a capital crime. Eliot didn’t have a death wish. Alex wouldn’t let Eliot die. That left them at a painful standstill of Eliot attempting to sneak into Alex’s quarters almost every other night, and sometimes, like tonight, failing. Alex handed him the shirt he had grabbed. 

“Wha- no, Alex, I have my own shirt, really-” Eliot stuttered. Alex cut him off.

“Take it. Your shirt is all torn and shit. And- well- kinda falling apart. You could use a new shirt.” Alex smiled, tossing the shirt to Eliot. Eliot shrugged it on, and was engulfed in the white fabric immediately. Alex was substantially larger than Eliot, who was like a toothpick. Alex was tall and stockily built, and had lots of muscles. He was athletic and fast, too. Eliot smiled at him.

“Thanks.” Eliot whispered.

“Hey, it’s late. We should go to bed.” Alex said, then literally lifted him onto Alex’s large bed, plopping him down on the soft sheets. Cutting off Eliot’s protest, Alex curled around him protectively, lips  brushing against Eliot’s neck.

“Good night.” Alex whispered.

“Good night.” Eliot murmured back.


End file.
